Almost Drabbles
by SHjarta
Summary: Slow-growing collection of Gaara/Sakura shorts which will be added to EVERY TIME I GET BORED because these two are so cute! Inspired by all the Gaara-related drabbles on here, and sorry for being yet another to contribute to the pile of Kazekage-paperwork fics.
1. Rain

_*Assume that for all of these Gaara is the Kazekage and Sakura lives with him in Suna, thank you!*_

Rain

* * *

Heavy skies in Suna? You'd have thought that such a rare occasion would encourage the villagers to step outside for once, but apparently not. Long fingers press themselves up against the glass window in the Kazekage's office, curious eyes willing the water to fall. Being Konoha-born, Suna's lack of precipitation was difficult to adjust to. It's been a year and three months since Sakura last saw rain.  
"Gaara-kun?" He's anchored at his desk, bent over and scribbling endlessly. Mindlessly.  
"I'm not going outside." Sakura swivels around on the spot, plastering on her most dramatic pretty-please face but it's no use because the redhead doesn't even flinch.  
"Just for a few minutes!"  
"I'm busy." A thick frown etches itself into her forehead while she stands innocently confused as to why he won't do this one simple thing for her. The only sound in the room is the scratching of his pen, the occasional flicking of his paper.

Sakura smiles, before stepping carefully over to him and taking the pen from his surprisingly unresisting hands. He seems almost thankful for it, placing his elbows on the desk and running his fingers through his messy hair.  
"Please?" Rain and sand don't comply massively well, and that's the excuse Gaara will use, but it's clear that he won't be required to fight in the next few minutes. Sakura widens her smile and grabs his hands, translating his reluctant silence as a "fine". When the droplets start to haul themselves at the window she jumps up, dragging him half-way out of the door before he's even had time to stand properly. Down the stairs, past the disapproving elders and various other important shinobi who roll their eyes. Through the grand corridors and doorways, weaving between old pillars, then finally out onto the almost-deserted streets.

Sakura breathes out slowly, closing her eyes and letting the water pour over her face, still clinging to the Kazekage's hand. The sleepiness hasn't disappeared from his eyes, but his features have been consumed by a gentle quietness and he looks peacefully happy, almost smiling as he watches her, his red hair cemented to his forehead, his skin soaked.


	2. Dance With Me

Dance With Me

* * *

Sakura likes strange music. At least, Gaara thinks so. Most people presume, based on his hard-arse and highly aloof personality, that he'd be listening to death-metal and screamo, however in reality it's quite the contrary. He likes classical mostly, but not the typical radio-orchestral type; melancholic piano compositions and slow soundtracks that could put you to sleep. Though somehow despite his taste he's never been very musical himself. Piano lessons were a disastrous experience for everyone involved, he's broken two guitars and refuses to sing in the presence of anyone, even Sakura.

They're in the same room but sitting metres away from eachother, completely in silence. The Kazekage is, believe it or not, actually attempting to read a book and the young kunoichi is excitedly highlighting in one of her study books, tipping her head back and forth to the bass of one of her favourite songs. One of her favourite songs which happens to be one of Gaara's least; his growing irritation is extremely unhelpful, especially since reading is a difficult task in terms of his concentration even without the help of annoying music. After she clicks "replay" for the third time he jumps up to cross the room and skip the track, but she's at the CD player first to tackle him. She launched herself off the sofa so quickly that her pink highlighter ended up underneath the table and her yellow one slid near the door.  
"It's giving me a headache," he says, his mouth frowning, but his eyes placid. Sakura is a few centimetres shorter than him, but she can stand her ground; her left hand is firmly gripping his right arm, her right hand pushing against his chest to prevent him from knocking her over.

They stand in silence for a minute or two before she allows herself a timid smile and says: "dance with me?"  
"What?"  
"Dance with me!" she grins, tugging playfully at his jumper. Gaara sighs, closing his eyes as if to say 'why do I put up with this?' but on opening them he smiles because of the way she is looking at him.  
He slots his fingers slowly through her own, sliding his other hand around her waist, then closes his eyes as she leans into him.


	3. Morning

Morning

* * *

"WAKEY WAKEY!" Sakura violently throws back the sheets, flailing her arms around and shouting like it's an emergency. Gaara curls up in shock, which slowly turns to exasperation. He shivers in the cold air.  
"It's too early. Go away."  
"YOU HAVE A TON OF PAPERWORK AND I DO NOT WANT TO BE WOKEN UP AT HEAVEN KNOWS WHAT TIME JUST BECAUSE YOU STARTED AS LATE AS YOU DID YESTERDAY!" She has a valid point, but it's not convincing enough for him to even consider leaving his bed, with or without the duvet. She's so noisy, why is she so noisy? He grimaces, cursing her in his head, wishing she'd leave him alone. "IF YOU DON'T GET YOUR LAZY ARSE OUT OF THAT BED RIGHT NOW I SWEAR I WILL DRAG YOU ALL THE WAY TO YOUR DESK."

Sitting up, he narrows his eyes and scowls at her. The biggest downside of his being-able-to-sleep now is the morning routine, especially when Sakura is in such a foul mood. But she smiles when he complies, moving to the side of the bed to kiss him good-morning. He flinches at her cold lips on his cheek, still disorientated from her sudden shift in disposition and wonders where she gets all of her energy from so early in the day.

She pulls back and smiles at him, bending down with her hands on her knees so that their eyes are level. "Are you hungry?"  
"No." His eyes are contemptuous, apathetic, but the young kunoichi's smile doesn't falter. She settles on the edge of the bed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and back, pulling him close to her. His vest smells like a deep sleep, the fabric interwoven with his distinct scent. The frown that was corroding his lips slowly disperses; he scolds himself for allowing her the ability to manipulate his emotions so heavily. Nevertheless, it's a nice feeling. No one has ever made him feel so vulnerable before, but at the same time so understood. Encasing her delicate frame in his own arms, he breathes her in, indulging himself in her aroma while a complacent smile spreads across his mouth.


	4. Sorry

Sorry

* * *

Curled up against the wall, Sakura whimpers quietly in the dim light, head buried in her knees and arms wrapped around her shins in an attempt to initiate some kind of comfort. Occasionally she'll lift her head to stare out of the window onto Suna's dark streets, at the flickering lights in the distance. A deep-blue sky abundant in stars glares down at her; on a gorgeous evening like this she'd generally be sitting outside, but not tonight. All he has to say is "I'm sorry" but he's too stubborn to even admit that he's ever wrong. Problem is, he never is wrong.

Most of the time he won't react aggressively, to the extent that he won't show any emotion at all. Sakura had always considered this to be bothersome, but when eventually he did erupt it frightened her. Will be sulking downstairs in his office right now, probably. Or maybe the entire incident didn't perturb him at all and he'll just pursue another pile of paperwork. Tears spill down the kunoichi's cheeks as she recognises that the only possible sources of comfort at this present moment are millions of miles away. Naruto, Lee, even Ino would be a shoulder to cry on.

"There's nothing else here for you, you might as well disappear the hell back where you came from." Her chest tightens every time she reminds herself of the harsh words he'd spat at her. Rocking back and forth, she silently wishes him into the room to grant her a cuddle at the very least.

As if on hearing her request, the door creaks open a couple of inches; Sakura's head bolts up. Is he going to apologize? Is he going to yell some more? Is he going to-

It's Temari.

"You ok, hun?" An overpowering sadness devours the pink-haired girl's face, drowning her skin in salty rivers and sending shivers throughout her body like electric currents. Suddenly fuelled with adrenaline, anger towards the stupid Kazekage and his stupid arrogance, insolence and narcissism ignites inside of her. She leaps up and shoves past a startled Temari, flying down the stairs and throwing herself at the office door.

Gaara looks up from his paperwork to find a hysterical Sakura with alarmingly dangerous eyes.

"I hate you!" Tears hit the floor. "I hate you, I hate you, I HATE you!" The red-head stands up abruptly, walking towards the distraught girl with outstretched hands as if attempting to comfort or reassure her. She lashes out and he treads backwards. "You're so wrapped in your little 'I'm-so-important' bubble that you don't even have the courtesy to step back and take a look at the bigger picture!" Her voice becomes desperate and begins to crack. "IT WASN'T MY FAULT!"

There's a tense silence in the room for a few moments, save for the heavy breathing and footsteps on the staircase above. Gaara's face creases before slowly conceding. In an instant, his arms are tight around her back and her face is pressed into his chest; she doesn't have time or space to argue.

"I'm sorry," he says slowly, cautiously. "I'm sorry." He holds her tightly to him until she stops sobbing, then he says, "I'm sorry," again. Looking into his eyes, Sakura recognises genuine remorse for the first time.

"Me too," she says. Another couple of droplets leak from her eyes as she smiles gratefully.


	5. Blizzard

_Everywhere feels so festive atm that I couldn't help myself making this! It's a bit stupid and lacking-in-fluff (ended up being mostly description) and ends suddenly, might have something to add on later but right now I'm low on inspiration. Writing for these two is fun but not when you're so short of ideas, so if anyone's got anything please let me know and I can try to scribble something down. :3_

Blizzard

* * *

It's always freezing in Konoha during Christmas. Last year every building, plant and pavement was clad in thick snow. It was impossible to take a five minute walk without ending up looking like someone'd sprinkled icing-sugar all over you, as if you were one of those Christmas gingerbread men, or chocolate cakes. It all ends up looking a bit like a gingerbread town, actually; the roofs of the houses are entirely white, and most people hang up cute lights or stick holly branches around the outdoor walls. There's also usually a window which gives you a good view of the Christmas tree inside, all lit up and decorated.

Konoha looks the same this year. It's almost empty outdoors, save for a young visiting couple trudging slowly through the blizzard. Sakura's boots sink down to her laces in the sludge, and her eyelashes are speckled with snowflakes. She's wearing at least four layers and feels like a toaster, unlike the Kazekage who, despite wearing double what his girlfriend is, is shivering like he's been stuck in a fridge for hours.  
Temari and Kankuro arrived two days ago, but Gaara had some last minute administration to tend to and Sakura refused to let him travel alone. The four of them decided months ago that they'd spend a portion of their winter break down in the Leaf to catch up with some friends. To laze about indoors for a while instead of chasing around busy out of their minds; in the warmth, scoffing hot food and watching the snow freeze the landscape outside. At least, that was what they'd pictured; Gaara's beginning to doubt he'll even survive the trip.

"Are you alright?"  
"You should've told me there'd be a blizzard," he says, monotonously, clutching desperately to his robes. Sakura laughs.  
"It's only a mini-snowstorm, silly. We'll be there in a minute." Noticing that her words make no difference to his uneasy expression, she smiles and huddles up next to him to keep him warm like penguins do.


	6. Binge

Binge

**binge** _verb_: if you go on a **binge**, you do too much of something, such as drinking alcohol, eating, or spending money.

Sweet wrappers, flapjack and cake crumbs are strewn across the floor and table alongside small pieces of chocolate; there are smudges on the sofa and on Sakura's clothes and around her mouth. She's chewing silently, even though her protesting stomach is rumbling loudly as if trying to persuade her to stop eating. In Suna, Sakura has a reputation for being one of the most beautiful women, but recently she's been losing her elegance and with it, her confidence.

She'd always been a strong believer in the power of comfort food, but once the point is reached where comfort food becomes the consolation for overeating, something has evidently gone wrong. Sakura had wound herself into a vicious cycle of binging from addiction then subsequently binging from unhappiness, a habit which emerged seemingly out of nowhere and worsened steadily over time. The Kazekage had been warned of her behaviour by her first witness, but, his mind having been preoccupied with the threat of attack from another village, he had not fully understood the severity of the situation and cast it aside as unimportant. Now, a fortnight later, she was no better. Her tummy was bloated, her eyes red and sore from crying and her fingers trembling from an overdose of sugar. She cried because her muscles were rattling beneath her skin and her stomach was bubbling like a saucepan of overheated chocolate soup, and she cried because despite the countless efforts of enforcing discipline upon herself she had once again succumbed to temptation. She cried because she felt guilty and ugly and disgusting.

When the gentle creak of the door sounds, Sakura hasn't even the energy to attempt to compose herself. Not that any amount of desperate re-composure could account for such appalling mess. Gaara treads softly into the room and the prevalent silence descends; he's rarely the first to speak, but even if he were, who could assemble words of any sort at such a sight?

"I'll clean it up later," she says. She is avoiding his stare.

"I'm not worried for the mess." His eyes scrutinize her sticky cheeks and quivering shoulders, and although his expression remains neutral he is quickly choked with sympathy. He tentatively takes a seat beside her, then brushes a couple of awkward tears suspended from her chin before wrapping both arms around her back. Sighing, he assumes that all he has done is render them both utterly uncomfortable in the most cringe-worthy method possible, but Sakura seems to have found quiet repose amongst the folds and creases of his robe. Suddenly she erupts into a fit of tears, so Gaara falls back against the sofa and lets her cry into his chest. He smoothes out her tangled pink hair with his fingers while she calms down.

Half an hour of spluttered apologies and half-hearted tantrums ensue, both on Sakura's behalf, before a civilised conversation can take place.

"You should've told me." Gaara's eyes are dark; one could interpret his mood as dangerous but Sakura instead deciphers a deep sadness, as if she had discarded him rather than kept a secret. "Levi said he'd seen you, but I had no idea you were this bad."

"I'm alright." Had the situation not been quite so traumatizing, he'd've actually laughed at such a pathetic attempt to be reassuring when the truth was so blatant.

"I'm going to help you," he says. Sakura smiles because she is surprised; she'd expected him to mock or sneer at her, to say something like "What's the problem? It's only food." She realises then that a considerable portion of misery stemmed from the apprehension that he would stop loving her should he become aware of her abhorrent habits, or should they begin to show in her face. Her smile widens because this isn't true, and more tears leak from her green eyes, but this time they are only liquid contentment. She whispers a quiet, grateful "thank you" before cuddling up to him again, and he is too puzzled by her sudden recovery to reply.


	7. You Look Ill

You Look Ill

"Gaaa~aara-kun!" Sakura bursts into the Kazekage's office to find him gazing blankly out of the window, stacks of unfinished paperwork blanketing his desk. He turns his head to stare dozily at her, and she giggles softly. "Take a break, my lovely." Stepping over to lean against the back of his chair, she runs her fingers through the red mess on top of his head. When he doesn't respond, the kunoichi shoves aside his current pile and plops herself in its place. His eyes are darker than usual, his skin pale from lack of sleep, his expression glazed and exhausted. "You look tired."  
"I'm tired," he admits, sighing. It's unusual for him to openly announce that he feels anything less than fine, even to Sakura. Brushing a wisp of hair from his forehead, she leans in to scrutinize his features more closely. Red-stained eyes, puffy lips, flaking skin and a damp forehead.

"You look ill," she says, carefully. Although the apparent symptoms are evidently not life-threatening, and Sakura knows Gaara would be in good hands (including her own) even so, seeing him looking this fragile is unnerving. He's always so robust, so quietly powerful and obstinate; he trundles through life so apathetically, unfaltering no matter the circumstance, that one begins to conceive him as almost invincible.

When his irises begin to quiver she yanks him from his chair and bundles him out of the office, down the hallway and into the bedroom.

He quietly protests that already his papers are long overdue, but is ignored entirely. Sakura untangles the top section of his robe and disappears through the corridor, looking for medicinal herbs, while Gaara quite literally falls into bed. The duvet had earlier been removed for cleaning. He lies breathlessly on the white linen sheets, staring at the bland ceiling.

For the remaining hours of the afternoon the Kazekage drifts slowly in and out of consciousness. Like a tired kid on an aeroplane he feels quietly at peace, but he is lightheaded and the surrounding ambient noises seem louder than they should do: the scraping of chairs and rattling of tablet packets irritate his ears; even Sakura's hushed voice makes him uncomfortable. She strokes his hair and wipes his nose and lips, remaining at his bedside while he is gently consumed by sleep.

Fourteen hours later, Gaara's eyes unstick themselves and he sits up in bed, which has now been clothed in a freshly cleaned duvet. Sakura's not here.

He slides off the mattress and shuffles out of the room, a hand on his head as if to steady himself, his eyes squinting in the yellow light. The sleepiness has passed, and he doesn't feel unwell anymore. Cyan eyes which are no longer stained red glance through ajar doors as he passes them, but he's already guessed where Sakura might be. On reaching the end of the corridor, he hesitates a moment before pushing gently at the door which leads into his least favourite place on the planet; on entering he almost laughs at the sight. His exuberant pink-haired girlfriend, who'd rather be sunbathing than studying, is attempting to tackle his infinitely significant and exhaustingly tedious paperwork, not to mention the fact that it's also highly confidential. She's so focused that she didn't even notice his entrance. Gaara has the tread of a thief and the swift motion of a dancer; Sakura complains often of him sneaking up on her, but he makes no effort to be more alerting.

He's not frequently one for initiating touching, but as his mood has drastically improved he decides to mimic the actions that Sakura often takes upon visiting him in the office. She gasps and straightens up suddenly when he places his hands on her shoulders, but on realisation quickly relaxes before slumping against the chair-back.  
"Take a break," his lips curve upwards slightly as she sighs, "you look tired." Sakura puts one of her hands on his then closes her eyes, leans against his other arm and allows a smile to creep across her mouth.

"You missed the 'my lovely'." For a moment a gentle silence fills the room, perhaps as he contemplates how to respond.

"I love you." The words surprise her. Her smile vanishes and she looks up to him as if to check she wasn't simply imagining things. If she hadn't been, this would be the third time that he'd ever said it to her. The first, an awkward and contrived murmur (which she'd appreciated nonetheless) on one of her birthdays, and the second when he'd accidentally ingested alcohol mistaken for medication, subsequently spending the evening annunciating all sorts of rubbish. But she hadn't imagined it; his eyes gleamed with elation as he smiled down at her. Such affectionate behaviour was absolutely a rarity from him, but Sakura buried herself into it whenever it did emerge.

"That'll do too," she said, smiling and snuggling into his wrists.


End file.
